


I Wear the Mustache, I Make the Rules

by Banji



Category: Book of Life (2014)
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 04:34:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2638262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banji/pseuds/Banji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[X-posted on FF.net] A short one-shot about our three amigos in their youth. Sweet and fluffy and rather silly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Wear the Mustache, I Make the Rules

**Author's Note:**

> Filed under: things that sounded a lot cuter in my head.

“Give up, Sanchez! You cannot defeat the might Joaquín!”

Joaquín brandishes his wooden sword at Manolo triumphantly, a mischievous smirk dancing across his face. The other boy responds with a grand flourish of his own sword. María watches them quietly, absently plucking at the strings of Manolo’s guitar as he defends his honor.

“I shall never admit defeat! No retreat, no surrender!”

María rolls her eyes and smiles at their over-the-top banter. Boys were so silly sometimes. She smiles, enjoying the playful antics of her two best friends. Manolo jabs the wooden weapon at Joaquín, who nearly stumbles trying to side-step the thrust. Not for a single moment during the heat of battle do the smiles leave their faces. María knows very well that Manolo is what they would call “a lover, not a fighter”, but she also knows that he wouldn’t play games of swordplay and heroics for anyone except Joaquín.

“I’ve got you now, Mondragon!” Manolo swings the sword in a wide arc with a shout of triumph. This time Joaquín does fall over in his efforts to dodge the attack, landing with an “ooph” in the dust. María giggles at the sight of “the mighty Joaquín” being bested.

Manolo points his sword at his friend’s throat. “Any last words?”

“Wait!” Joaquín touches his upper lip, then looks frantically at the ground. “You knocked off my mustache!” He stands up quickly, examining his clothes and the ground where he fell.

Manolo watches his friend get worked up over a piece of paper and sticks his sword into the dirt, leaning on the hilt like a cane. “Are you sure you were wearing it today?”

Joaquín becomes more frantic. “Of course! I remember putting it on this morning!”

María then points at Manolo. “It’s stuck on his sword, Joaquín.”

Manolo lifts the sword up to examine it. Sure enough the brown piece of paper, colored to match the boy’s honey-colored hair, had caught on his sword during their tussle. He pulls it off and out of reach before Joaquín can grab it. The other boy paws desperately at his friend’s outstretched hand.

“Give it back, Manny!”

Manolo grins and sticks the paper mustache to his own upper lip. “Look at me, María. I’m Joaquín!”

María laughs heartily, clutching his guitar. Joaquín frowns and only tries harder to reclaim his fake facial hair. Manolo laughs as well and begins to run away, Joaquín in hot pursuit.

“I am Joaquín Mondragon and I have the most luxurious mustache in all of Mexico.”

“That’s not funny, give it back!”

“Women swoon at the sight of my facial hair.”

“Cut it out!”

María observes their chase for a moment, Manolo gleefully mocking and Joaquín trying in vain to reclaim his mustache, both of them weaving circles around each other in an endless dance.

Suddenly, she jumps up and tackles Manolo to the ground as he runs by. With a smirk, she snatches the mustache from his lips and stands, turning her back to them. Joaquín and Manolo, both breathless, come to stand next to each other.

“María, what are you--?”

“Silence, both of you!”

Grabbing Manolo’s abandoned sword, she turns to face them, the mustache now fixed upon her face. “I am in charge now!”

The two boys exchange confused glances with one another.

María pretends to twiddle the mustache and marches back and forth in front of them like a drill sergeant. “As your new commanding officer, you will do as I say. You will not question my authority or any of my orders, or you will be punished for treason.” When she sees the boys have not stopped staring, she stomps her foot, causing them to jump. “Well?!”

In an instant, the new game is understood. Both of them stand at attention and give María a salute. “¡Sí, señorita!” they shout in unison.

María smiles and lifts her sword high. “Good. Let’s go!”

 

 

They played for hours under General María’s command. There was no denying that she had the most innovative ideas for games. Over the course of the day, the three friends waged war against the giant tree across the river (which ended in a stalemate as the tree would simply not surrender to their efforts), led a secret mission to find a way onto the roof of Casa de Posada (which failed miserably because her father caught them trying to climb out the second floor window), and had even solved the mystery of who had stolen Señora Rosa’s prized chicken (“The culprit was me all along!” was the excuse María gave when a rather disappointed-looking Rosa came to demand the return of her bird). Time seemed to slow to a crawl when the three of them were together, laughing and having fun.

Eventually the sky grew darker with the setting of the sun and their playtime had left them breathless and sweaty from running around all day.

“Time to come home, María!” comes the call from General Posada.

María pouts. “I have to go now, I guess,” she admits to her friends. They frown but nod, as they too should be leaving.

Manolo brightens up first. “Hey, same time tomorrow?”

Joaquín and María smile as well and nod eagerly. She returns the wooden sword to Manolo and watches them walk off with their arms around each other, happy to have such wonderful friends.

“Oh! Joaquín!”

They stop and turn as María runs up to stop them. She gently removes the paper from her lip and holds it out to him. “You almost forgot your mustache.”

Joaquín looks at the now crumpled piece of paper, smiles and puts his hand on top of hers.

“It’s okay, you can keep it.”

“You sure?”

The boy nods. “I’ll just win it back from you tomorrow,” he adds confidently.

María giggles and sticks the mustache back on her face, standing in a triumphant pose

“I’d like to see you try.”


End file.
